


Apple Juice

by throwupsparkles



Series: Grape Soda Verse [3]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Codependency, Depression, Drug Use, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery, Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: “I want to keep your giggles forever,” Pete murmurs and Mikey is so far gone in the toomuchfeeling, it’s really not fair.And so he starts to cry.And Pete kisses the tears. Just as earnestly as his giggles. “I’ll take these too,” he whispers, “You can give me anything, Mikeyway.”
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Series: Grape Soda Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689652
Comments: 22
Kudos: 97





	Apple Juice

Mikey is kinda peeved that Gerard is up his ass about going to college. He  _ barely _ graduated high school, which he thinks is understandable considering his brother/best friend was in another country getting shot at. And honestly, how the fuck was he expected to think about colleges when his brother came home missing an arm? 

But, as soon as Gerard get’s back into the groove of things, he starts following Mikey around the house with college brochures. Frank isn’t much better, which Mikey thinks is fucking hilarious since Frank dropped out to play guitar and tattoo people.

“You have to give it a try, Mikes,” Gerard reasons.

And Frank adds, “Plus, I had an apprenticeship lined up when I dropped out. I didn’t just peace out of school with no plan.”

Gerard gets this smug look on his face that Mikey hates and loves all at once. He’s annoyed, for sure, but it’s kinda nice to see Gerard fired up about something. Things have gotten...better, Mikey supposes, but Gerard is still not his Gerard. Not yet. 

“I just don’t feel like it, guys,” Mikey mumbles.

“Mikey, this is your future,” Gerard says softly, “You don’t want to just throw that away because you’re scared.”   


“I’m not scared.”   


“Mikey…”

“I don’t see the point.”

“You’ll make new friends,” Frank suggests and Mikey scoffs. 

“Friends are good,” Gerard agrees, nodding, “You need more friends. All your high school buddies left to go out of state for college.”

Mikey shrugs. It’s sort of a sore topic for him. He wasn’t the most popular guy in school by any means, but he had a pretty great group of friends. When Gerard joined the army, they made sure to take Mikey out to the mall or movies so that he could keep his mind off of the fact that Gerard was away at boot camp. But, when Gerard went overseas, the depression that hit him was too hard for his friends to combat. Mikey didn’t go to prom or even walk the stage for his high school graduation. His mom tried to get him to go but Mikey didn’t really see the point of going to prom if Gerard wasn’t there to help him tie his tie or give him tips on how to spike the punch without getting caught. And, why would he need to walk across the stage and take a stupid piece of paper if Gerard wasn’t in the crowd to watch him?

Gerard had been really heartbroken when he learned about that. He had been stretched out on Mikey’s bed one afternoon when he was still healing and asked to see pictures from the prom. 

“I didn’t go,” Mikey had said.

Gerard’s brows furrowed. “Why not? Did you not get a date? Because, there’s no shame in going stag with your friends.”   


Mikey shrugged. “I didn’t ask anyone. I didn’t want to go.”

And Mikey knew that Gerard was smart enough not to ask “why?” but he knew that he still wanted to. He could see the word on his lips, but his eyes were broken and he just bit his lip to keep the word from escaping. 

“Just take a couple classes at the community college,” Gerard whispers now, pushing the catalog in his hands. 

“They have music classes,” Frank says.

Mikey hates it when they double team him, he has a hard time saying no to just one of them but when they team up it’s always an easy victory. So, Mikey just groans and takes the catalog. 

*

Mikey is pretty sure community college is just high school all over again, except there’s always a random middle aged person sitting in the back of the classroom asking too many questions. There’s cliques of fake tan girls and muscular guys that stare Mikey down as he walks down the halls to his classes. He pulls his pink hoodie closer to himself, feeling so self conscious. 

Mikey doesn’t buy any of the books required, convinced that he’s just going to drop his classes after the three week mark that he set with Gerard and Frank. It works ok for him in the first few classes, but when the professor asks him to read the intro to the chapter, Mikey thinks he’s going to crawl out of his skin and hide back in Gerard’s basement. 

“Here,” the person next to him whispers. 

And then there’s a book in front of him on his desk opened to the right page. Mikey stumbles over the words and he’s sure someone is going to quote that awful scene in  _ Billy Madison _ to him, but he makes it though with burnt cheeks and hands the book back without glancing up. 

And, because it really is fucking high school, a piece of paper slides onto his desk:

**Ur hoodie is cute.**

Mikey keeps blinking at the inked words until he manages to scribble:

**Thx**

He hears laughter as he slips it to the side and then finally looks up at the messenger. He rolls his eyes, because  _ of fucking course _ this dude is totally his type. Black hair straightened to death. Tight jeans and tighter shirt. Even his fucking white denim jacket is doing something for Mikey. And this just proves that Mikey has somehow walked into a 90s romcom. 

When class is over, Mikey bolts from his seat, but the book guy catches up and pulls on his arm.

“Hey, I’m Pete Wentz.”

Mikey sighs and says, “Mikey.”

“Mikey what?”   


“Way.”   


Pete grins. “Good,” he says brightly, “See you later Mikeyway.”

Mikey does not think that Pete’s eyes are melting behind all that eyeliner  he wants to lick up . He does not watch as he walks away in his too tight jeans. And he certainly does not catch his breath at how Pete says his first and last name like one word he’s tasting on his tongue. 

No, he doesn’t do that. 

Because that would make him Julia Stiles. 

*

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Frank says softly, moving Mikey’s fingers back to the right fret.

Mikey huffs and drops his hands, letting the bass hang from the strap around him. Frank frowns and sits down on the couch. “Let’s take a break.”

Mikey pulls the bass off him and tosses it on the couch, it just feels like it’s weighing him down into a pit of failure. And it’s frustrating because he can  _ hear _ the notes he wants to play, and maybe Frank is right, that he’s just overthinking it. But, it’s like he can’t turn his mind off.

Especially lately.

And he’s trying not to blame Gerard for everything that’s wrong in his life right now, because that just makes him feel really sick. He knows, ok? He fucking knows that he’s too dependant on Gerard. His mom made him see a therapist as a kid when they thought he had ADHD, and the therapist had asked him about Gerard. And Mikey couldn’t stop talking about Gerard. Everything in his life revolved around his older brother, and he supposes it still does. 

Codependent. 

That’s the term they had said and it rattles in Mikey’s mind here and there like some long lost friend that he can recognize but doesn’t know anymore. It lost its meaning a long time ago.

Frank coaxes Mikey to take a seat and it reminds him of all the times Mikey spent crying on his couch when Gerard was miles away. Frank was great and all, but he couldn’t fill those shoes and it was unfair of Mikey to have expected him to. He still shudders at the look on Frank’s face when he had stormed back into the apartment after taking a distressed Gerard home. He had looked...broken is too tame of a word. He looked demented, destroyed, deranged. And Mikey did that to him. 

“Hey, bud, talk to me. What’s going on?”   
He sorta hates that Frank is starting to be able to read him like Gerard.

But Frank can’t talk to him without words like Gerard can, and that’s what he needs right now. Because when he feels this heaviness, he can’t speak. It feels like there’s this thick smoke inside him. Starting in his stomach to make his guts turn in on themselves, then it moves up to squeeze his heart and press down on his vocal chords. 

So, Mikey just shakes his head.

And Frank searches his eyes before dropping it. 

Maybe Mikey isn’t giving him much credit.

*

“There’s this party,” Pete says when class is over, “you should come.”

Mikey used to go to a lot of parties.

Used to.

Pete senses the hesitancy and pulls Mikey’s phone out of his front pocket. Mikey squirms a bit and blushes, but lets Pete put in his phone number. “Look, text me if you change your mind.”

Pete has been...Mikey wouldn’t say persistent, because that seems a bit desperate. Pete has been, well, he waits for Mikey after class everyday and walks him to his car. The conversations vary from trivial things like comments about the weather to cheek burning questions about his dating life...or lack of. And then he asks about his classes and what he’s majoring in. 

When Mikey says music, that opens a whole can of worms. 

“Do you play?” Pete asks.

Mikey shrugs. “Trying to learn the bass. You?”   


“Guitar, and I write,” Pete says, eyes glazing over with passion. 

Mikey’s in trouble.

Which is why he gets annoyed when Gerard says,“You should text him.”

Meddling brothers.

“He wants me to go to a party.”

“So?” Gerard asks softly. “You like parties.”

“I don’t really know how to interact with people anymore,” Mikey reveals, sort of shocking himself by the words that hang in the air now. 

Gerard’s eyes widen, looking at him with a broken cocktail or apprehension and disappointment. 

“Mikey…” He breathes.

And Mikey comes over to sit on the bed. He leans against Gerard, who puts his arm around him. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, because Gerard already knows. He can see that the same darkness that Gerard has had to carry is in Mikey now too. He picks up Mikey’s phone and presses it into Mikey’s hands. “A party means there’ll be distractions in case you get nervous talking to Pete.”

Mikey nods. That’s true.

“But if it goes good, you can go outside or find a room to talk,” he says gently, and Mikey wonders if he’s reminiscing about the first days he had with Frank all those months ago. 

Mikey still has the phone in his hand, hesitating.

“You can wear my Evil Dead shirt.”

“Will you do my eyeliner?”

Gerard grins and nudges Mikey with his head.

*

Mikey finishes his cigarette in the car outside the house. He can hear the music leaking into his car and he hears laughter. Shrieks and cheers. Mikey pulls down the visor and opens the mirror, smudging his eyeliner just a bit more before finally getting out.

His legs feel heavy as he makes his way through the garage. There’s people playing beer pong and groups of smokers. No Pete.

He makes his way inside and finds the keg first, filling up a cup before making his way through the rooms. Mikey used to feel so at home at parties. And it wasn’t exactly that he was some party animal or anything. He just liked that he could dissolve into the background of the noise and alcohol. He liked that he could laugh and it would echo through the bodies and carry throughout the house like a magical spell. Mikey loved to be around people, filling his head with their stories and warming his heart with their laughter. He was always told that he was kind of a quiet guy, but it was never that Mikey had nothing to say. It was just that he wanted to listen more than speak. He didn’t want to miss anything.

He thought that people missed too much because they were just waiting to speak instead of actually listening. 

“Mikeyway,” he hears, so he turns towards the voice.

Pete grins at him. “You actually came.”

“I texted you,” Mikey points out and Pete’s smile grows like he’s in on the joke. 

“Need another drink?”

Mikey glances down and, huh, he already had drained his cup. “Yeah.”

He follows Pete into the kitchen and he gets a refill. Pete nudges a guy wearing a fedora. “Patrick, this is Mikey.”

Patrick grins and presses his face against Pete, whispering something and Pete smiles at Mikey with a wink. “Yeah,” Pete says, and it makes Mikey’s stomach flip. 

Patrick says, “Nice to meet you.”

Mikey just nods and takes a drink. 

The more he drinks, the less he feels out of place. While he’s nursing his second drink he hovers by Pete wherever he goes and he knows that’s awkward, but he can’t help it. He needs to be tethered to something because he thinks he’s going to float away. He doesn’t know where he’s supposed to fit in anymore. His brother isn’t here.

By the fourth drink, Mikey is playing beer bong with a grin and a handsy Pete wrapped around his hips. Pete is pressed against the back of Mikey, his hand covering the hand that Mikey is using to hold the ping pong ball. 

“Be the ball,” he giggles softly against Mikey’s ear and Mikey can’t stop smiling. 

Pete brings their hands back and when he snaps his wrist, Mikey releases the ball and it sinks into a cup, erupting the garage into cheers.

Mikey can feel Pete’s smile against his cheek.

By the fifth cup, Mikey is pressed against the wall with his hands full of Pete. And he thinks that he needs to slow down, because he doesn’t realize it until Pete’s tongue is in his mouth that this is his first kiss. And he doesn’t remember how it started. If he kissed Pete first or if Pete kissed him. Mikey’s never been...well he doesn’t really know, he had crushes in high school. He remembers being pretty hung up over this guy who played the drums in his band class. He jerked off to pictures of dudes in bands with enough eyeliner on to make Gerard jealous. But he never dated. He never had anyone touch him like the way Pete is touching him.

For how feverishly Pete is kissing Mikey, his hands stay fairly innocent. And Mikey is glad, because he doesn’t know if he could stop him at this point. And he definetly wants to remember the first time he has sex. 

Pete carasses Mikey’s cheek and he pulls back to whisper his name in the way that Mikey has started to crave. 

“Say it again,” Mikey whispers.

“Mikeyway.”

“Again.”

“Mikeyway.”

Mikey doesn’t know how many drinks he’s at when he feels Pete’s laughter under his cheek, deep and homey. Mikey wants to make a nest inside him and live there forever. He feels Pete’s hand on his back, soothing and grounding. Mikey thinks he’s going to melt away any minute then, “Where’s home, Mikey?”

“Gerard,” Mikey whispers.

He feels a hand going into his pocket and then hears a dial tone.

*

When he opens his eyes, he regrets it immediately. He groans and pulls the blankets up over his head and he hears a chuckle. 

Gerard.

And it’s sort of the last person he wants to see right now, but also who he always craves when he’s feeling sick. 

“How’s that hangover?”   


Mikey groans again.

“I have some apple juice here for you,” he says gently, “And animal crackers.”

Mikey smiles slightly, that’s what Gerard always fed him when he was feeling sick. He pulls the blankets down and winces at the sunlight coming into his bedroom. He sits up against the headboard and rubs at his eyes. Gerard sits up too and gives him a sympathetic smile. 

Mikey sips his apple juice, then, “I had my first kiss last night.”

Gerard’s smile grows. “Yeah?” He asks softly. 

Mikey sips more juice. “I don’t remember it really.”

Gerard’s smile falls. “Oh, Mikey.”   


He shakes his head and puts the cup back down on the table and scoots down so he can lay his head in Gerard’s lap. “I liked it,” he says, quickly so Gerard doesn’t think he was taken advantage of or anything scary, “I just didn’t realize it was my first kiss until it was already happening. I thought it was going to be a big deal, you know?”

Gerard strokes his hair. “Yeah,” he says softly, then he laughs a little, “my first kiss was with Cindy. She was wearing this sticky lip gloss that tasted like candied apples.”

Mikey snorts. “You would remember more about the lip gloss than the actual girl.”

Gerard shakes with laughter. “Yeah. But, Mikey it doesn’t have to mean something if you don’t want it to.”

“I want it to. It was nice.”

“With Pete?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard tugs on his hair gently so that Mikey looks up at him. “He treats you right?”

“He called you didn’t he?”

Gerad smiles and nods. “Yeah.”

*

“Here?”

“Yeah,” Mikey breathes, eyes fluttering shut.

Pete sinks his teeth into the curve of Mikey’s neck and he gasps, hips bucking up. Pete grins against his skin and presses his hips back down with a steady hand. “Easy,” he breathes, brushing his lips against the irritated spot.

Mikey had thought that things would be awkward when he showed up to class on Monday, but Pete had just given him a wink. Mikey had driven Gerard insane all day Sunday when he didn’t get a text from Pete. 

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to text him,” Gerard had pointed out, “Maybe he thinks you’re freaking out.”   


“I  _ am _ freaking out.”   


Gerard had just laughed and shook his head.

Asshole.

But now, Pete had Mikey pinned under him in the back of his car in the parking garage on campus. Mikey attaches his lips to Pete’s jaw, kissing up his jawline to his ear, “More.”

Pete shudders and pulls Mikey’s shirt up and over his head, then wastes no time licking his collarbone. Mikey whines and digs his fingertips into Pete’s hips. 

“What’s it like?” Mikey had asked Gerard, biting another animal cracker.

Gerard, of course, knew what he was talking about. “It depends. When it’s just sex, it’s like standing out in the middle of summer, the sun making your skin too sensitive, drinking a cold soda too fast. The bubbles fizzing down your throat and nose, and your brain gets tingly?”

“And when it’s more?”

Gerard smiled. “It’s love.”   


Mikey would have rolled his eyes, but he knew what Gerard meant. It was too much to explain. And that’s what that word was for right? To capture the “too much” feelings. Love. 

But he heard it tossed around so much.

Hears people love pizza or a book. Something sentient with no reciprocation. So, Mikey isn’t really sure what love is. 

He says he loves his brother all the time. And the words sound right when he says them, but not in his heart. He knows that his brother is himself, his best friend, and parent all at once. And he’s fine not being able to define that by a single phrase. He knows that his brother is his mind and heart. 

But, 

Mikey isn’t sure what it means to love another person. The way that Gerard says he loves Frank. He knows it’s deeper than that. 

Mikey wonders if it’s the breathlessness that Pete is pulling out of him. Mikey feels like he’s suffocating, but not by the dark smoke. It’s like Pete is smothering him with that toomuchfeeling he doesn’t know how to define. Like it’s vibrating into his pores and filling him up. 

“Hey,” Pete whispers, stroking his face.

Mikey’s eyes focus back on Pete and he leans up to kiss him. “Hi.”

“Let’s slow down,” Pete whispers against his lips.

Mikey frowns, “Did I--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I just don’t want this to just be about sex,” he says, “I want more than that with you.”

And Mikey still hasn’t gotten used to how blunt Pete is. How he just says what he’s thinking without any filter that everyone else seems to use. He sits up and let’s Pete put his shirt back on him, leaning down to kiss his cotton covered chest. “God, you’re damn sexy though,” Pete murmurs, making Mikey blush. Pete grins and kisses Mikey’s pink cheeks, “Very sexy.”

So, instead of losing his virginity in the back of his car like a cliche, they drive around town swapping stories. 

Mikey tells him about the time Gerard covered for him when he almost got arrested for selling pirated Disney movies.

Pete tells him about the time he got stoned and tried to steal a penguin from the zoo.

Mikey tells him about Gerard being held up at gunpoint when he was fifteen.

Pete tells him that his parents sent him to bootcamp.

Mikey tells him how Gerard joined the army after the Twin Towers attack.

Pete pauses.

“What?” Mikey asks.

Pete pulls into a gas station parking lot and puts the car in park. He turns in his seat and stares at Mikey in a way that makes him think Pete can see the dark smoke making its way through Mikey’s internal organs. 

“All your stories are about your brother,” Pete says softly.

Mikey doesn’t get it. He nods.

Pete sighs and it’s the first time Mikey has seen him look uncomfortable. “You’re more than your brother.”

Mikey feels his eyebrows knit together. He feels Pete’s gaze on him as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. 

Pete waits for Mikey to get through half of it before he says, “Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Would you like to meet him?” Mikey asks softly.

Pete doesn’t tell him that he already met him that night when Mikey got too drunk to drive home. He just says, “Of course.”

*

Pete doesn’t blink an eye at the fact that Gerard is wearing a mini skirt and heels when they walk into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Pete says when Gerard turns. 

Gerard’s stopped blushing when people see him in feminine clothes, but he still looks a bit unsure under Pete’s gaze. Mikey wonders if Gerard thought that Mikey would hide this from Pete. Like he was ashamed of his brother. Like he was even capable of feeling ashamed of Gerard.

“This is Gerard, my brother,” Mikey says.

Gerard smiles at him. “We met when I picked you up,” he says gently.

“Oh,” Mikey says, but Pete reaches out to take Gerard’s pink manicured hand. “It’s nice to meet you properly.”

And Mikey feels his heart tug.

*

Mikey knows that this is what you’re supposed to do in college. 

Experiment.

Except he’s really starting to freak out when Pete puts the small square of paper on his tongue. He knows that this is fucking stupid. How many times has he watched Gerard go mad under the influence of drugs? To be fair it was mostly cocaine and whatever pill bottle he could get his hands on, but Mikey fucking knows better. He keeps seeing Gerard’s shaky, pale body hunched over the toilet seat moaning how he wanted to rip his skin off his body.

Mikey meets Pete’s eyes and he knows that his own are bugging out of his eyes. He picks the paper off his tongue and shakes his head, “I can’t.”

Pete’s eyes soften and he kisses Mikey’s forehead. “Shh,” he coos, “it’s ok.”

Mikey looks at Patrick who is giving him a wicked look. “It’s kinda too late for that.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“It’s already absorbed into your body,” Patrick says as Pete strokes his cheek, “It takes like, three seconds.”

Mikey starts crying.

He feels like a little bitch, but he does. Like, he hunches over in his seat and tucks his face against his knees and sobs. Pete is right there, rubbing his back and kissing his temple. “Baby, baby, it’s ok,” he whispers, “I’m going to be right here with you. Your mind is not as scary of a place that you think it is.”

But it was. 

Mikey should have known better, because his mind was way too scary for this. 

But it’s not bad. Pete takes his hand and has him go on a walk with him around the block because sitting in one place is not the best thing to do when you’re tripping. Mikey mostly just feels euphoric, it feels like there’s someone with cold fingers rubbing up and down his spine and his head feels like it has a string attached and Pete is pulling it higher and higher. 

And he laughs.

Mikey can’t remember the last time he laughed so much. 

And Pete is beautiful.

Pete is beautiful when he’s not on drugs, but Pete right now is...unearthly. 

They’re laying out in the lawn of Patrick’s house and Mikey can’t keep his hands off Pete. Can’t stop tracing the ink on Pete’s skin that’s starting to move and Mikey giggles at that too.

Pete leans over to him and kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him.

“I want to keep your giggles forever,” Pete murmurs and Mikey is so far gone in the  _ toomuchfeeling _ , it’s really not fair. 

And so he starts to cry.

And Pete kisses the tears. Just as earnestly as his giggles. “I’ll take these too,” he whispers, “You can give me anything, Mikeyway.”

*

Pete takes him out on dates to the movies, wrapping him up in his white denim jacket in the cool theater. He lets Mikey buy way too much candy at the concession stand and complain about a belly ache when he tries to finish it all. Pete just grins, rubs Mikey’s stomach and presses small kisses to his forehead.

They go to Frank’s shows and Pete slams his body into Mikey’s in the pit, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and stealing kisses between songs.

“Hey keep your hands off my kid brother,” Frank said into the mic one night with a laugh.

Pete had just licked the sweat off the back of Mikey’s neck.

And sometimes, Pete would just come over and lay on the floor of Gerard’s basement with Mikey and listen to Gerard tell them stories that didn’t exist yet. He’d paint them pictures with words that would soon turn into inked realities. Mikey liked to watch Pete when he was listening to Gerard, just to make sure that he understood the same magic that Mikey did.

Mikey thinks about summertime and drinking soda too fast. And that’s what this feels like. 

Even without sex.

He’s pretty sure that Pete knows that Mikey is a virgin, but he doesn’t make a big deal about it, which Mikey really appreciates. It’s not that he doesn’t think his first time should be important, but he doesn’t want to make it such a big deal that he’s scared. 

Because that’s what he does. He fixates on things that seem too important for him. 

And this isn’t something that Gerard can help him through. 

_ You’re more than your brother _ .

Mikey wants to think that Pete is right, but sometimes he doesn’t...can’t see it. 

And it wasn’t that Mikey felt that he was living in Gerard’s shadow. It was sort of the opposite actually. Gerard lifted him up and out of the darkness. Gerard sacrificed himself to it so that Mikey wouldn’t have to fight.

Gerard was always saving him. 

And it wasn’t like they had this awful childhood that would make them depend on each other. His parents worked really hard to make sure they had a good life, took them on family vacations and made sure they had something to open on Christmas. They didn’t live in the best neighborhood, but his brother had such a big imagination that Mikey didn’t need the outside world. 

Gerard would create their own world for them to live in. Where bullies from school couldn’t reach them. Mikey would walk home from the bus stop, sniffling from the mean words he heard all day. But, as soon as he stepped through the front door, none of that mattered anymore. Gerard would take Mikey’s hand and bring him into a magical kingdom where they were brave, strong knights. Slaying the dragons that fired harsh words. Slashing at ogres that stole lunch money. Sparring against corrupt kings who gave out too much homework. 

When they got older, the monsters became too real. The worst monsters were the ones in Gerard’s mind. He would stumble and fall, unable to be awoken by Mikey’s desperate pleas. 

Gerard would retreat down to his dark basement and draw creatures that were plaguing his mind. Created horror stories that he could play out on sheets of paper so that he didn’t have to handle them in real life. He could make these fucked up stories that he could escape to. Mikey knew it was so that he could justify that same dark, smothering smoke that Mikey was becoming all too familiar with. He knew that Gerard kept this darkness in his mind so it could find a home in it instead of the real world. So it couldn’t touch Mikey. 

He could  _ see _ it in his eyes. Gerard hadn’t wanted to be here anymore. 

But now Gerard is better...happy even. With Frank. 

And Mikey is thrilled for him. He’s never seen his brother look so sure of himself, not even under the false liquid courage of alcohol. Frank makes him stand straighter, smile easier. 

So, Mikey doesn’t mind fighting off the monsters for him now. 

Until the day that Mikey can’t get out of bed. 

He’s laying on his stomach, almost hanging off the side of the bed with his hands curled up against his chest like he’s cowering.

When Mikey misses his class with Pete he hears his phone ding, but he doesn’t even have the energy to reach for it. He knows that his whole body is filled with the smoke today, weighing him down into the mattress and his head feels so fucking heavy. But spacey at the same time. Like he can’t hang onto a thought for very long.

Gerard comes in before he leaves for his shift at the comic book store. He sits on the edge of Mikey’s bed and presses the back of his hand to his forehead. “You’re not warm,” he whispers.

Mikey looks at him, and the recognition that registers on Gerard’s face makes Mikey sigh and close his eyes. “Different kind of sick,” Gerard whispers. Not a question.

He strokes the side of his face. “I can stay home,” Gerard whispers and Mikey makes a sound of protest, not able to talk.

But Gerard doesn’t need Mikey’s voice to know what he’s saying.

Gerard presses a kiss to his hair and then Mikey hears him walking down the steps. He hasn’t left for work though, he can hear Gerard making noise in the kitchen.

And then there’s a straw being pressed against Mikey’s mouth.

Mikey feels his lips curl a bit and he sips the apple juice.

Gerard holds the cup as he sips the juice and waits until it’s gone before whispering, “I’ve got to go or I’ll be late. I’m going to move your phone closer to you. Can you try to answer when I call during my break? We don’t have to talk, just answer so I know you’re ok.”

Mikey opens his eyes and holds Gerard’s gaze until his tense expression relaxes a bit. “Ok, Mikes.”

And then Gerard is gone.

And Mikey is left alone with the darkness. 

*

He hears their front door open sometime later. It’s too early for Gerard to be home and if he left work early because of Mikey, he’s going to be so pissed.

“Oh, Mikeyway,” he hears.

His heart tightens and sinks at the same time. He needs Pete right now, more than he thought he might, but he doesn’t want him to see him like this either. 

Pete sits on the floor next to Mikeys bed and reaches out for his hands. Pete hums a low tune and rubs his thumbs gently against Mikey’s pulse points, warming him up. He leans down and kisses each of his fingers, bends them a bit before slowly extending them back out. He scratches lightly at his palms and squeezes against his knuckles. Slowly bringing Mikey’s hands back to life. Creating movement to clear the smoke. 

When he finishes with Mikey’s hands, Pete presses carefully against Mikey’s shoulder so that he rolls onto his back. Mikey watches as Pete moves to sit on the edge of the bed before leaning down to kiss Mikey’s forehead. Pete rubs Mikey’s earlobes between his index finger and thumb before tracing the curve of his ear. His fingertips trace down Mikey’s cheekbones and to his jaw. He massages the joint where his jaw meets his ear then slips behind his neck.

Mikey exhales a sob. 

Pete leans his forehead against Mikeys. “Get it out,” he whispers. And for a moment Mikey wonders if he’s talking about the smoke.

Mikey moves his freed hands up to Pete’s face and strokes the slight stubble along his jaw. Pete leans down and kisses the wetness that Mikey didn’t know existed on his face. 

They stay in bed for awhile, Pete working his hands into Mikey’s body until he wakes up his tired muscles and shakes the smoke loose enough for Mikey to sit up. 

“Think you can manage a shower?” Pete whispers.

Mikey shakes his head.

Pete strokes his throat so Mikey says, “Not yet,” in a hoarse voice.

He coaxes Mikey out of bed though, has him walk with him slowly down the stairs and sits him down at the kitchen table. Mikey watches him sort through the fridge and pull out eggs, milk, and butter. He sets them down on the table in front of Mikey then comes back with flour, sugar, baking soda, vanilla extract, and chocolate chips. Mikey feels his lips trying to smile. 

Pete sets down two bowls and the electric hand mixer along with measuring utensils. He pulls out his phone and fumbles a bit before putting it out on the table in front of Mikey. 

Chocolate chip cookies. 

“You want to make cookies?” Mikey asks softly.

“What does the first instruction say?” 

Mikey looks down. “Preheat the oven. Three-seventy-five,” he whispers.

Pete smiles and kisses his forehead before getting up to turn the oven on. 

And so they make cookies. Pete makes Mikey use his hands, measuring flour and scooping sugar. 

“Is this enough?” Mikey whispers, sprinkling chocolate chips into the batter.

“What does the recipe say?” Pete asks softly, and not to be mean or condescending. Mikey knows that Pete is trying to make him work his mind as much as his hands. And he’s a bit surprised by how much it’s helping. 

After Pete puts the cookies into the oven, he comes over to sit on Mikey’s lap. Mikey welcomes the weight, even if it’s not much. Lets the pressure push the smoke down from climbing up Mikey again. 

Pete takes one of the dough covered beaters from the electric mixer and wipes the sticky sugary mixture onto Mikey’s neck. Mikey grins, easier now. Pete’s mischievous eyes hold Mikey’s as he leans down and licks the dough off. Mikey closes his eyes and let’s his head fall back, giving Pete full access. Pete kisses up and down his neck, nibbling at the sugary traces. 

Mikey reaches behind Pete and takes the other beater. Pete sits up with a bright smile. Mikey wipes dough across Pete’s mouth and he leans up to kiss him. He sucks on Pete’s bottom lip and he groans, grounding down in Mikey’s lap. 

Mikey pulls Pete’s shirt off and tosses it behind him, before streaking dough across his chest. He leans up and licks up his mess. Pete weaves his fingers into Mikey’s hair and sighs, before tugging up so that Mikey pulls his mouth back up to his. 

Mikey licks into his mouth, tasting sugar and Pete. And it’s dizzying.

Pete’s hands push up Mikey’s shirt until he gets annoyed at the barrier and pulls it off, joining Pete’s on the floor. He picks up the beater to smear dough on his chest, but a clump falls off and lands on Mikey’s lower stomach, right above his waistline.

Pete’s eyes darken and Mikey’s breath comes out quick. Pete stands and pushes Mikey’s chair out so that he can slip onto his knees in front of him. He shudders at Pete’s tongue cleaning the dough off his stomach, then stops breathing when he feels Pete tug at his pajama pants. 

“Is this ok?” Pete whispers.

Mikey looks down at him. At his half lidded, lustful eyes. His swollen, licked lips. His flushed cheeks and chest. “Don’t you dare stop,” Mikey answers softly. 

Pete grins and slips Mikey out of his boxers, and Mikey has to look back up at the ceiling because watching Pete unclothe him like he’s the best Christmas present is making his head spin. 

“I’m not going to last long,” he gasps. 

Pete chuckles and takes him in his mouth. 

“Motherfuck,” Mikey breathes, tensing in his chair. 

Yeah, definitely not going to last long.

He feels him hit the back of Pete’s throat and moans, shaking already. Pete pulls off and whispers darkly, “Wait until the timer goes off.”

Timer?   


Oh, cookies. Right. 

Mikey has never been a patient guy, and he sure as hell doesn’t plan to start with is dick in Pete’s mouth. 

*

Mikey knows that things start to get out of hand as it happens. He wonders if Gerard could tell when he had fallen into his own madness. If he saw the decline in his mind like Mikey does when he looks into the mirror. At the streaked eyeliner that’s down to his chin from sweat and tears. 

He hears a roar of laughter outside the bathroom door and he can’t find it in his heart to want to join them. He tips back his cup and drains the rest of the beer, feeling it slosh around in his stomach with the Ativian that he took from Pete’s medicine cabinet. 

His face feels numb and Mikey keeps pressing his fingertips into his flesh, wondering if he could mold it into a new person. 

Mikey wants to be a new person. 

*

Mikey watches Pete’s fingers dance along the frets in a way that he could never master. Pete’s eyes close and he grins, easy and smooth and Frank laughs, elevated. Mikey wishes that he could find that kind of freedom in his music. He knows that he loves music, finds himself lost in it most of the time, but always by someone else’s talent. Not his. 

“Where’s your bass?” Gerard asks softly, sitting next to Mikey on the couch.

Mikey mutters lowly, “Don’t feel like it,” eyeing Pete. 

But Pete already hears and stops playing. “Yeah, Mikey, come on I haven’t seen you play.” 

Frank grins, “I have it laying around here, since you never take it home to practice.”   
Mikey’s knee bounces with nerves as Frank goes to fetch it. He gets up when Frank comes back and slips the strap over his shoulder, already feeling weighed down by the heavy expectations. His fingers struggle with the chords that Frank had shown him, or tried to anyway. 

Pete plays along with something that sort of works along with the bassline that Mikey is setting, but he keeps dropping notes and it just doesn’t really work. So, Pete sets down his guitar and Mikey is about to give in as well, but Pete comes behind Mikey and rests his chin on his shoulder. 

Mikey expects to tense under Pete’s touch with the others watching them, but he doesn’t. He feels the perfect amount of grounded, tethered down but not suffocated. Mikey waits for Pete to move Mikey’s fingers to the correct spots to make the chords ring true, but he places one hand over Mikey’s heart and the other covers his eyes. 

“I need to see to play,” Mikey insists.

Pete’s breath is warm against his ear. “No you don’t. I know you know where to place your fingers, that’s not your problem.”

Mikey’s fingers struggle to find the correct positions, but it feels awkward and he huffs in annoyance. “You’re playing with the wrong organ,” he whispers, rubbing his hand over Mikey’s heart. 

And so Mikey focuses instead on the feeling of Pete’s body pressed against his. Of the warmth that’s radiating over his heart, chasing the smoke away. It can’t touch him when Pete is here. He hears the heavy, moody notes before he acknowledges that he’s playing. 

And then he hears Gerard’s gleeful laughter.

Mikey smiles, because he hears the music. 

Finally he’s starting to hear the music. 

*

Most nights Gerard is at Frank’s apartment now. Mikey sort of wonders why he doesn’t just fully move in. But, he suspects it has something to do with him. And he loves Frank for not pushing Gerard to leave Mikey just yet like he knows he should.

Codependence. 

But on nights that Gerard stays home, Mikey makes his way down the steps and into Gerard’s bed, hooking his arm over Gerard’s chest. He’ll already have a movie playing and Mikey will lay quietly as Gerard whispers the lines of his favorite character. Or, sometimes he’ll make up different dialogue for the scenes he thinks could have been written better. Gerard’s adaptation is always better. 

And then after the movie is over, Mikey will go to the kitchen and return with ice cream. They dig into the container together and Mikey smiles at the way Gerard uses his left hand more surely now. He lets the image push out the one where Gerard is laying on his bed with bandages still secure to his right side as Mikey feeds him spoonfuls of Rocky Road. 

“Tell me about Pete,” Gerard whispers, like it’s a secret.

“He’s my second favorite person,” Mikey admits quietly.

Gerard grins, liking that answer. Mikey likes that his brother knows that no one will ever out rank him. “I like the way he watches you,” Gerard says softly.

“How does he watch me?”   


“Like you're precious.”

Mikey snorts.

“But not breakable,” Gerard adds thoughtfully, “Like he sees your strength. And I like that about him the most, I think.”   


Mikey just takes another bite of ice cream.

“What don’t you like?” Mikey risks.

Gerard is hesitant, he runs his spoon along the edge of the ice cream container. 

“Gee?” Mikey presses.

“I don’t like that you're drinking with him,” Gerard says quietly.

This was always a hard line for them to walk. He knew that when Gerard got sober he wouldn’t be able to drink around him. And it wasn’t that Gerard didn’t want to be around people who were drunk, that wasn’t it. He couldn’t be around  _ Mikey _ when he was drunk. And they both knew that it was an unfair expectation, but Mikey understood why and Gerard knew his limitations. 

“Lots of people my age drink,” Mikey says softly. 

Gerard hums in agreement then, “But that night Frank and I picked you up”--Gerard looks up from the ice cream to really stare at Mikey, traces over the lines of his face as if he doesn’t have them already memorized-- “you looked like I did. It was like looking in the mirror.”

Mikey looks down and doesn’t know why he is shocked that Gerard can see right through him. That he can see the darkness taking hold of him. Gerard fought the same thing,  _ of course _ he would be able to recognize it. 

“Tell me, Mikey,” Gerard whispers, “Tell me what you're fighting so I can pick up a sword.”

“I think…” Mikey starts, but stops because he doesn’t know how to put anything into words. He knows how he feels, but he can never find the right words. The toomuchfeeling. The dark smoke. 

Gerard waits though, and that’s what he loves most about his brother. That he doesn’t force the words from Mikey. Most of the time he doesn’t need to hear them. But, he still waits for Mikey to say them because he knows that it’s  _ Mikey _ who needs to hear them. 

“There’s this…” Mikey is struggling so Gerard offers, “Heaviness?”

Mikey nods. “Yeah, smoke.”

Gerard frowns. “It’s suffocating you?”

“Is that how it felt to you?” Mikey asks instead.

Gerard sticks his spoon into the ice cream and reaches out to grab Mikey’s hand. Mikey moves the ice cream to the side and scoots closer so he can lean forward and rest his forehead on Gerard’s shoulder. 

“It felt like,” Gerard pauses, then, “It was sticky. Like I couldn’t get it off of me. Like when you step on a piece of gum and just sort of carry it everywhere with you.”

Mikey nods. “It kept getting on everything.”

“Yes,” Gerard agrees softly.

“But you scrubbed it from you.”

“I did,” Gerard whispers, “There’s some traces left. I’ll never fully be clean, Mikey.”

Mikey stills. 

“But that’s  _ okay _ ,” he says, shrugging his shoulder so Mikey lifts his head to look at him, “It doesn’t make you harder to love.” 

Mikey notices the pronoun change.

He feels his eyes grow hot, so he presses his face against Gerard’s neck. Gerard rubs his back slowly. “Does Pete push the smoke away?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says with a broken voice.

Gerard hums. “Another thing I like about him,” he whispers and Mikey lets the liquid escape his eyes. 

*

Mikey catalogs this in the dontyouforget part of his mind. The part where the alcohol and drugs don’t even touch. 

He doesn’t want to forget the way Pete’s fingertips trace lazy patterns onto his cooling flesh. Pete’s lips brush against Mikey’s temple and he can feel the smile there. 

It hadn’t been a special occasion like they talk about on TV. It wasn’t prom. Wasn’t an anniversary. They hadn’t talked about it before. 

It just happened.

And it was the perfect way for Mikey to lose his virginity.

He lets that word bounce around his mind for a moment, wondering if it had ever really carried meaning before. If it was just another word that had the impossible task of capturing a feeling. He didn’t feel less...pure, or whatever people sometimes push onto the term. He felt, well, he was happy that it was Pete who was his first.

Even if Mikey doesn’t know how he feels about love or virginity, he knows that what just happened was special. And not in the scary way that Mikey had originally thought. 

Pete never pressured him, always let him decide where to take their touches, kisses, breaths, and sighs. Sometimes he slowed them down, but most of the time Mikey was ready to run. He knew that Pete would make sure he wouldn’t fall. 

Pete had undressed Mikey slowly, pressing open mouthed kisses on each inch of revealed skin. Savoring. He had coaxed Mikey down on his mattress, and there was something perfect about this happening in the place he grew up.Where he sat and thought about what it meant to belong to someone and why you would want to. Where he first learned that he wanted to be loved by boys. Where he had laid while Gerard tried to find the words to explain sex.

He thinks of summertime as Pete’s hands dance across his skin like they had when they were tripping barefoot in Patrick’s yard. Giggles and laughter. Tears and touches, holding hands and spinning. Mikey felt like he was spinning, but Pete took hold of his hands. Interlaced their fingers and pressed them down into the mattress so he wouldn’t fall off balanced. 

Mikey had been enamored by the way they moved together. How his limbs shifted to fit tighter around Pete. His chest expanded with breath when Pete’s collapsed. Mikey breathed in his air and he felt dizzy with it. Loved how it filled him up so much that the smoke couldn’t find a home in him. Not now.

Not for this moment.

This belonged to Mikey.

And Pete. This he was giving to Pete.

Mikey had let out a whimper as he felt himself stretch, his body making room and his heart finding a place for Pete to live now. He felt his world shift for Pete, and he let out a shaky breath. 

“Ok, Mikeyway?” Pete had whispered, caressing his cheek and waiting. 

“Say it again,” he had breathed.

“Mikeyway.”

“Again.”

“Mikeyway.”

*

And then one night Mikey goes down to Gerard’s basement and sees him cleaning out his closet. He stands there on the bottom step and just watches him neatly fold a satin dress before he says, “I’m moving in with Frank.”

Mikey knew that this was coming, but it still fucking hurts. 

It reminds him when Gerard had moved out of their shared bedroom when Gerard started high school. Again, when he moved out of the house to go to college. And then away to the army. He was moving on without him, going to a new phase of life where Mikey couldn’t follow. 

And he knows that he’s been extra clingy to Gerard lately, but he, he’s just so fucking lost right now. 

“Mikey?”

“About time,” Mikey forces himself to say in a teasing voice.

Gerard beams at him and places the dress into a suitcase. 

Mikey helps him fold clothes, sort comics, and file DVDs into suitcases and trash bags because Gerard hadn’t planned this out to get boxes. Mikey tucks away one of Gerard’s tube of lipstick in his pocket when he’s turned trying to zip his overstuffed bag. 

They put on a movie and drip ice cream over the bags as they giggle over how much of a jacket slut Gerard has turned out to be. Mikey has to sit down on the suitcase so that Gerard can finally zip it up. 

Mikey keeps a smile on his face and his voice light until Gerard finally falls asleep in his stark room. Mikey stands on the steps and his eyes trail over the places where posters have been hung for years, leaving behind discolored rectangles. He frowns at the bare carpet that had always been littered with magazines and cigarette packs. His desk isn’t covered with pages of vibrant ideas or markers. 

This feels different than when he left for college, or even the army. At least then, he had left his basement full of him. Mikey could come down here when he needed Gerard. If he had a bad day, he could wrap himself in the blankets that smelled like both of them and play his records. He could sit at the desk and trace his fingers over the lines that Gerard had made before he was gone. 

And he knows he’s being a bit dramatic. He’s not leaving the state, he’s just moving in with Frank on the other side of town. He can visit him whenever he wants. But, he huffs to himself, it’s not the same. He doesn’t have Gerard to himself anymore. He doesn’t have a piece of him that no one else does anymore. 

He climbs the steps up to his room and shuts the door because he can’t break in Gerard’s room. 

_ You’re more than your brother. _

But he’s not. Because all he can see is his brother. All that his life has been is Gerard.

He remembers, his first memory is Gerard holding his hand. Guiding him through this life, and Mikey never thought about what life would be like without holding onto Gerard.

_ All your stories are of your brother.  _

Because that’s all he has stored in his mind. The only memories he thinks are important. 

Gerard showing Mikey how to hide his tooth under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy.

Gerard walking Mikey to the bus stop on his first day of school.

Gerard pouring Mikey apple juice when he was sick.

Gerard helping Mikey pick out the perfect outfit for his first party.

Gerard sweating out the drugs he had pumped into his bloodstream.

Gerard crawling into Mikey’s bed with ash in his hair and a stricken expression.

Gerard telling him he was leaving him to fight a war he wasn’t prepared for.

Gerard coming home broken.

Mikey slaps at his face and cries. Sobs and sinks to the floor, covering his eyes because he couldn’t see the pain anymore. He had just wanted the pain in Gerard to stop.

He wants the pain from Gerard to stop finding a new home in himself. 

*

Pete comes over with a beer for Mikey. Mikey is halfway through it by the time Frank’s set starts. He tries to ignore the heavy look from Gerard as Mikey goes back up to the bar too soon. 

But after a few songs and a round of shots or two with Pete and he’s dancing. He focuses on the push and pull of their bodies as they move within the pit. Mikey knows that he should be standing with Gerard off to the side since he doesn’t feel comfortable in the pit anymore. 

But Mikey is feeling bitter. 

If Gerard wants to move on without him, then so can Mikey.

*

Mikey stumbles through the rooms of Patrick’s house, leaning against the wall and panting like he’s just spilled over Pete’s hands. He rubs himself against the wall, purring. He feels sweat pour down his back and he arches at the feeling of the droplets falling into the back of his jeans. He remembers how his tongue had wrapped around the pill. He never really considered taking Ecstasy, but he really wasn’t considering much anymore these days. 

He feels hands on him, turning him and then someone’s mouth is on him and Mikey whines because it’s too much. 

They taste sticky and sweet, like lip gloss. 

Mikey knows it’s not Pete. 

*

Gerard comes to visit almost every other day as if to make up for the fact that he’s not living in the same house as Mikey anymore. Mikey is either not there or asleep in his bed. A couple of times he feels Gerard slide in the covers next to him, pulling him against his chest. 

Once he whispers, “Tell me how to help you.”

And Mikey still hasn’t found the words.

*

Pete’s fingers had been in Mikey’s mouth.

Mikey sucked and coated them with sighs, breath, pleas as Pete moved behind him, gripping his hip with his other hand. Mikey’s head snapped forward against the shower tiles and his forehead rubbed against the grooves. It should have hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t Pete.

Pete’s hand released his hip and moved around to wrap around him. Mikey moaned around Pete’s fingers and he felt Pete’s rhythm falter, felt his breath quicken against his ear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned and shoved his fingers futher down Mikey’s throat. Mikey choked but it made his hips buck, then shout out, muffled and strangled as his breath left him blind and shaky.

Pete pressed him against the wall and so much, so much, so much, toomuchfeeling. 

Mikey panted as Pete removed his fingers to cradle their bodies together under the too cool water. 

Pete’s fingers are back in Mikey’s mouth now, but they jab at the back of his throat without care.

Or maybe too much.

“Fuck, get them out,” he grits, fingers hitting the back of Mikey’s throat and Mikey watches as undigested pills pour out of his mouth with bile. 

Pete doesn’t care that he’s thrown up on him, just keeps shoving his fingers down Mikey’s throat and pulls the pills out of Mikey’s trembling body.

Frank is standing in the doorway with his phone pressed to his ear, speaking firmly but his eyes are wild. Gerard is sobbing silently in against his chest, staring at Mikey like he’s seen a ghost.

Mikey’s stomach is protesting, but keeps spasming, reacting to Pete until Mikey is just dry heaving. 

Pete pulls Mikey to him. 

Mikey sticks to him with the pills between their bodies.

*

Mikey wakes up in Pete’s bed days later with a still sore stomach and scratchy throat. Pete is in the kitchen of his small studio apartment, Mikey can see him poking at the eggs on the stove from the bed. He hums to himself and has a small smile, moves around the kitchen like he’s ballroom dancing. 

Mikey smiles when he sees him pull a container of apple juice from the fridge. He gets out of bed and pads into the room, not stopping until he rests his forehead against Pete’s back and exhales. 

Finally able to breath after being suffocated for so long.

Pete doesn’t turn, just lets Mikey hang onto him for as long as he needs. 

Mikey blinks rapidly trying to get the movement to erase the images of Gerard in the hospital with him. Gerard had clung to him when they let him see him finally. He had scooped him up and held him in his lap, rocking and pressing his face against his pulse in his neck. Kept stroking his face and sobbing into his hair. Frank just stood against the door with a tight expression.

And Pete.

Pete had waited behind Gerard and let him be with his brother, because he knew that’s what Mikey really needed at the moment. To feel like he wasn’t being left behind. That Gerard came back for him. 

“The eggs are burning,” Pete whispers, so Mikey lets him go. 

*

Mikey takes a deep breath before he follows Pete into the bar. 

Gerard had given him tips on how to be around alcohol without wanting it. Or at least, how to not give into the want. Gerard smiles at him when he sees him and takes his hand, leading him to the bar. He orders himself a soda then turns to Mikey.

“Apple juice,” he whispers and Gerard smiles.

Gerard had came home for the days that Mikey was itching to drink but couldn’t. He kept himself locked in the empty basement and paced. Gerard just sat on the bare mattress and watched. And when Mikey had tired himself out, Gerard pulled him on the bed and let him cry while Gerard whispered fairy tales that would lull him to sleep. By the end of the week, he was stir crazy and Gerard made him get in his car and drive them around town like he used to do when Gerard got too out of his mind. They rolled down the windows and blasted music so loud that Mikey couldn’t hear his demons. And when he looked over Gerard was singing and smiling. And Mikey couldn’t help but cry at how beautiful he was. How full of life he was now. And Gerard had looked at him and he knew that he was thinking the same thing about Mikey. 

Mikey takes Pete’s hand as they stand outside of the pit with Gerard. Pete is grinning and bouncing on his feet and Mikey is about to tell him to go jump in if he can’t calm his nervous energy when Frank appears in front of them.

“Hey,” Gerard says with gleeful confusion, “What are you doing out here?”

Frank gives him a warm look before looking at Mikey and saying, “Our bassist is sick.”

Mikey nods. “Oh, that sucks. Are you guys...wait, no. Frank,  _ no _ .”

“Mikeyway, yes,” Pete says with a grin.

“You fucking knew?” Mikey asks, incredulous. 

“He brought your bass,” Frank says.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asks, “I’m not prepared, I don’t know what songs your playing or--”

“We didn’t tell you because you wouldn’t have shown up,” Frank says gently, “And you know the songs. They’re all the ones I’ve already taught you.”   


It was true. Frank had taught Mikey all his songs, and he suddenly had a sneaky suspicion that he had been training him as an alternate or something this whole time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gerard asks, a bit put off.

Frank grins, “Because you can’t lie to him.”

Gerard smiles and gives Mikey a wink. Then he nudges him, “Well get going.”

Mikey hands are shaking. “Guys, I  _ can’t _ . I just got out of the hospital not even a month ago.”   


Pete takes his hands and rubs them in between his. “All the more reason for you to get up there.”

And Mikey fucking hates them all because he’s standing stage right like he’s going to throw up. The techs are setting up for them and Mikey is looking for his best exit strategy, but Pete is holding him. Grounding him to his spot. He has his hand over Mikey’s heart, rubbing gently.

_ You’re playing with the wrong organ. _

When the band gets called on stage, Mikey is the last to go out. Pete hangs onto him until the last possible moment before giving him a nudge and pushing him out on stage. He’s barely aware of Frank introducing him to the crowd and then they’re going straight into the first song. 

Mikey is aware of his heart pounding and that he wants to puke, but it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. 

He doesn’t look into the crowd for the longest time, he just stands at an angle and stares at Frank or at the wall just past him. Frank turns and gives him maddening grins or comes over to lean on him to let him know he’s still here. He’s ok. 

It’s not until he’s almost done with the set that he chances a glance out to the audience, searching. 

He doesn’t have to look long, as soon as his eyes fall off of Frank, he finds Gerard.

And this is what he had been needing for a while, he just didn’t realize it until this moment. Gerard watching him on stage. He had originally thought it would be when he graduated, and remembers how he didn’t want to walk across the stage without Gerard in the audience. But he’s here now. And Gerard is grinning at Mikey like he’s something bigger.

Something more.

More than his brother. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left such beautiful comments on Grape Soda and Cinnamon Coffee. This third installment would not have happened without your love <3
> 
> I do have one last installment planned, just a little something-something to wrap up everyone's story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
